Rose was still half-buried in the pillow, trying to process the insanity permanently etched into Nikolai's chest, when his voice cut through her internal chaos. Calm. Commanding. Certain.
"Get changed," he said, as if the conversation was done. "We're going out."
Her head shot up, red curls spilling wildly around her flushed face. "Going out? Where?"
"It's a surprise."
She groaned, dramatic and loud, flopping back onto the couch like her bones had melted. "Ugh, I hate surprises."
"You'll survive." He turned away, walking toward the hallway, already pulling his jacket back on. Over his shoulder, his voice carried back to her: "There's a dress ready for you in your room."
Rose sat up, narrowing her eyes. "You picked out a dress for me?"
He didn't answer. Just that infuriating silence that meant he wasn't going to indulge her questions.
She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. "Control freak." But curiosity was already curling in her stomach.
Dragging herself off the couch, she padded down the hall to her room. The moment she opened the door, she stopped dead in the doorway.
Her breath caught.
The room—the room that had once been a glaring sea of yellow—was completely transformed.
She blinked, almost not trusting her eyes. At first, when Nikolai had given her this space, he had deliberately chosen yellow because he knew it was her least favorite color. It had been a power play, a cruel joke wrapped in opulence. But now…
Now the walls were softer, painted in hues of pale cream and muted blue. The bedding was lush, layered in silken textures that begged to be touched. Delicate golden sconces cast a warm glow, and soft rugs covered the floor where once it had been too stark.
Rose let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me…"
She never expected him to go through the trouble of a complete makeover. For her. It felt unsettling, this strange shift from calculated cruelty to… consideration.
Her eyes moved to the bed, where something immediately caught her attention. Laid out with surgical precision was a gown. A stunning blue silk dress that gleamed faintly under the warm light. Next to it sat a velvet jewelry box and a pair of stilettos that looked both elegant and lethal.
Rose's fingers brushed over the silk fabric. It was cool and smooth, the kind of dress that promised comfort without sacrificing allure. She swallowed, strangely nervous, and with a small laugh, peeled off the oversized shirt she was still wearing—his shirt—and slipped into the dress.
The silk hugged her body like it had been made for her, flowing down to the floor with graceful ease. She pinned her red curls back neatly, taming them into some semblance of order, though a few wild strands framed her face rebelliously.
When she stepped out into the hall, she could feel his eyes on her before she even saw him. Nikolai was standing by the door, jacket in place, expression unreadable—but the way his gaze lingered made her pulse trip.
His lips parted, a faint smirk tugging as he opened his mouth. "You look—"
"If you're about to say I look beautiful," Rose cut him off, one brow arched in smug defiance, "save it. I already know."
For a moment, silence hung between them. And then Nikolai chuckled, low and amused, shaking his head slightly. "Arrogant little thing."
She grinned, proud of herself.
Together, they left the penthouse. The city swallowed them in its pulse as they descended into the underground garage where his sleek black car waited. The drive was quiet at first, but not uncomfortable—just filled with the hum of the engine and the blur of Manhattan sliding by outside.
It took about an hour, traffic weaving through the veins of the city, until finally, the car pulled up to a towering skyscraper. The doorman greeted Nikolai with a deferential nod as they stepped inside.
Rose's curiosity gnawed at her. "So… you're not going to tell me what this is about?"
"No." His answer was short, firm.
She huffed, crossing her arms, but followed him anyway as they entered an elevator. They ascended smoothly, numbers blinking upward until they stopped at the sixtieth floor.
The doors slid open, revealing a wide expanse of glass and city lights beyond. The restaurant was elegant, refined, buzzing softly with the chatter of patrons and the clink of crystal glasses.
But before she could take in more, a chorus of voices erupted.
"Surprise!"
Rose froze.
Her heart stuttered violently in her chest as her eyes swept over the scene. A huge banner stretched across the far wall, bold letters reading:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROSE
Her entire body went cold.
Alejandro stood there grinning like an idiot, Kile already tearing up, Matt waving dramatically. Alexei was present too, leaning casually near the bar, and several other of Nikolai's men lingered nearby. Even Alejandro's other friends—faces Rose had only ever glimpsed in passing—were gathered, smiling and clapping.
Rose's blood ran to ice.
She hated birthdays.
The memories slammed into her with brutal force. At the orphanage, birthdays had never been a celebration—they had been punishments, nights twisted into nightmares where she was mocked, humiliated, sometimes worse. The word birthday had always been laced with fear.
Her throat tightened. She took a step back instinctively, the edges of her vision blurring.
And then—
A hand slid into hers.
Firm. Grounding. Warm.
Nikolai.
His grip was steady, his thumb brushing once over her knuckles like he could feel the storm raging inside her. His voice came next, low and close, the kind of whisper that seeped straight into her bones.
"It's okay," he murmured, his lips grazing her ear. "No one will hurt you anymore."
The world seemed to pause. The noise of the room dimmed, the banner blurred, and all that anchored her was him.
Her lungs expanded again, shaky but real. She squeezed his hand back, glancing up at him. His expression was unreadable to others, but she could see it—see the steel in his eyes that promised destruction to anyone who dared touch her.
Slowly, she let herself breathe.
---
The party unfolded around them—laughter, chatter, glasses raised in toast—but Rose stayed close to Nikolai, her anchor in the chaos. Alejandro and his ridiculous friends made fools of themselves as usual, Matt challenging the bartender, Kile nearly sobbing into her hair when he hugged her. But every time the panic threatened to creep back, Nikolai's presence was there, solid and unshakable.
For the first time in her life, a birthday didn't feel like a curse.